Touching You
by chronicler-of-knuckles
Summary: Getting closer just might be the thing that tares the brothers apart. WARNING: Language, Wincest


Touching You

By The Chronicler

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Dean glanced to the side as he put the car in park and turned off the engine. "Sammy…" he started, his tone gentle and concerned.

Sam's eyes fluttered but stayed closed, his head resting against the window. Behind their lids, his eyes twitched as he watched their last fight play out again and again in his head.

Though Dean couldn't be sure which part had stuck to his brother so, he could make a few guesses. There were more than a couple dozen times when he had thought that this was it, their last great battle. More than a few times his gut had wrenched, his heart had stopped, and he had hated himself for getting Sam into this mess.

Witches!

Who had thought such pretty little gals could be such evil, twisted bitches?

Sacrificing children, conversing with the dead, eating goat balls… the whole damn nine yard and then some!

But the real freaky bit was the way they went after Sammy. They were on him like starving junk yard dogs on a bone.

They had known who Sam was, what Sam was, and what he could do. Not to mention what they could do to him. They wanted to control him, make him their weapon, their crystal ball.

When their spells and curses weren't strong enough to turn him, they went right into the good, ol' tried and true torture!

Hell…

… and he meant that in the literal sense…

… if Dean had been a breath too late, if Sam had been a breath too weak…

With a gasp, Sam jerked up right, his fist snapping out slamming into the window. "ah…!" he hissed as already cracked and sore knuckles were bruised all over again.

"Sammy!" Dean called to him, instinctively reaching out to save his little brother, yet stopping just short of actually touching him for fear of doing more damage than good.

Shaking his sore hand, Sam rubbed his eyes with the other…

Either trying to rub the sleep away or the last wisps of his nightmare, Dean wasn't going to guess….

"Why'd we stop?" Sam wanted to know.

Dean frowned, but let his hand drop away. "'Cause I drive better when I'm awake." he nodded toward the cheap motel they were parked in front of. "I'll get us a room." he told him opening his door. But he hesitated, throwing his brother one more look. "You gonna be okay?"

Sam glanced at him from the corner of his eye, but nodded ever so slightly. "Yea." he mumbled. "Fine and fuckin' dandy."

His brother hesitated, not sure if the growl was reassuring or just more warning bells. But what else was there to say? He never knew how to comfort Sam when he was wining over a cracked egg! How was he supposed to comfort him when he was the cracked egg? Hell, he didn't even know how much of what and where and how bad Sam was hurt!

Sensing his brother's concern, Sam forced himself to sit up, turning to catch Dean's eyes. "I'm alright." he assured, hoping his voice sounded stronger to Dean than it did to himself.

It didn't.

Dean frowned, his eyes narrowing. "Yea." he grumbled, not in the least bit convinced. Kicking his door open, he climbed out of the car, slamming the door behind him.

"Damn mother fuckin' bitches…" Dean snarled as he spun about, desperately looking for something he could hit… besides his own car. Finding nothing that wouldn't set off alarms through out the little town and send him and Sammy back out on the road in a rush, Dean squeezed his eyes closed, and took a moment to concentrate on making his fists unclench.

God, he hated to see Sammy like this… All mangled and screwed up. Wasn't bad enough the kid couldn't have the normal and safe college preppy life that he wanted… The fuckin' powers that be had to go and stick that shit in his head, making him a walking target for every bad ass that had the slightest inkling for… oh gee, what a surprise… power!

Hell, fuck, and damnation.

Dean sighed a long tired sigh. "Don't take it home." he reminded himself of the same advise he had given his brother time and time again. Only way to stay sane in this game was to just let it go. No revenge, no connections, no heart ache. Just do the job and move on to the next.

Leaning his head back he felt the cold night wind flow over him, cutting through his t-shirt, burning through his bruised and scarred skin, freezing him to the bone. "Cold night." he mumbled, forcing a change in topic, even if just for himself.

As if in answer, the wind whipped about, screaming across the parking lot, ripping through the tree branches, and up into the starry night sky, wailing like a wounded beast.

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The trees shook, the stars dimmed, crickets hushed as her wail carried up into the night sky.

Dropping to her knees in the ashes of her sisters, she dug her fingers into the ground. Anger and sorrow twisted in her gut, blinding her with tears and rage.

Around her, the withering familiars cried and mourned the loss of their mistresses, some laying down to die in their ashes, others turning mad and gnawing at their own limbs. Others just snarled their own rage, teeth glistening in the star light, their hot breath stinking of decayed flesh and putrid old blood.

"Why?" she hissed to the ground. When no answer came from below, she threw back her head and screamed to the sky "Why?" Throwing her fists in the air, she demanded "Why! Why have you taken my sisters! Why! Why!" Then her eyes lowered, narrowing as she stared into the flames of the bonfire. Her voice lowered, becoming a snarling command as she demanded "Who!"

"Dean Winchester." came the answer.

Her dark eyes raised just over the flames, locking on the man that stood just at the edge of the tree line. She bared her teeth, but it was the doe that stood at her side that hissed.

His eyes flickered to the animal, before returning to the woman.

She rose up, her white gown flowing about her, her golden hair blowing in a wind that didn't exist. Her lips moved, but, again, it was the doe that spoke…

"You dare trespass here! This sacred place! This place of being!"

The man shrugged as he walked along the tree line. "Seems to be the place of not being any more." he pointed out, nodding to the pile of ashes.

The woman threw back her head and screamed again, her voice chasing even the moon from the sky.

The man winced slightly. "That's quite a wail you have there."

The woman's jaw snapped shut, her eyes lashing out at the intruder. Her lips parted slightly, the doe's voice rumbled…

But the man held up his hand, silencing them both. "I don't chit chat with mutton." he warned, his own tone taking on a dangerous glint. "I'm here to speak with Briere Rosteguy."

Instantly her hands came up. Stumbling back, she cried out as if she had been struck.

The doe lowered her head, hissing, taking a step toward the man, but stopped as he continued.

"The descendent of Pierre De Lancre, the trial judge of the Pays de Labourd witch hunts." he described. "The seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, bearer of a demon ring from the Solomon Mine, the speaker of Ra's true name, the master craftsman of pentacles… I know your true name and it is Briere Rosteguy!"

Cupping her hands over her ears, the woman wailed. "My name!" she cried, swaying all around. "My name…. he knows my name…"

"More importantly…" he interrupted her wails to say " I know the name of the man who burned your sisters."

Her wailing took on another tone, more sorrowful than painful. She spread her arms wide, floating down to the ground so she could gather the ashes to her, cradling them in her arms. "Oooooh, my sisters, my beautiful sisters…. gone, all gone…." she moaned. But, then, suddenly, her eyes snapped up and she demanded in a snarl "Who! Who did this!"

The man smiled slightly. "His name is Dean Winchester. He's a hunter. One of the best."

Her eyes narrowed. "So are you." she spat.

His smile never wavered. "Usually… but now I'm hunting different prey."

Her head twisted to the side until her ear was laying on her shoulder. "Why does a hunter hunt a hunter?" she wondered. "Is it because Sam Winchester killed your brother?"

He shrugged. "Could be we have a common cause." he admitted. "Dean Winchester killed your sisters. Sam Winchester killed my brother."

She rose up again, standing tall and beautiful in the light of the bonfire. She lifted her flowing virgin white skirt, revealing her perfectly shaped bare feet, dusty with her sisters' ashes. Every other toe was adorn with an ancient iron ring, each marked with its own ruin. Her blood red lips offered a sweet, gentle smile as she easily glided around the fire. "Come closer." she purred, gazing at him though her long, lovely eye lashes. She reached out with her long fingers, curling them around, beckoning to him.

He chuckled. Spreading his hands wide, he glanced at the line of trees that encircled the clearing. "Think I don't know a witching circle when I see one… Briere?"

She flinched, hissing at the use of her name. When she looked at him again, all the sweetness, all the loveliness was gone. "You have no right!" she wailed at him. "You have no right to say that name!"

"Knowing it gives me the right, witch!" he snapped back. Jabbing a finger at her, yet making sure not even that entered the ring, he warned her "Do not test me, witch! Do not try your craft on me! Make no mistake: I am a hunter and the only reason I haven't used your name to send your evil, filthy soul to hell to join your sisters is that I need you!"

She swayed back the way she had come, smiling as she went. "So…. why should I help you?" she purred, dropping a hand to run down the neck of her doe.

The man returned the smile. "Because, you won't get Dean without my help. I told you…. he's one of the best." He nodded his head slightly. "Soon's we done, you go your way, and I'll go mine. I see or hear of you again and I will destroy you. But, you stay clear, and we can both live a good, long life. Agreed?"

Her head twisted about, to one shoulder than the other, as if she was looking at him from all angles. Finally, she whispered "Agreed."

"Good." That said, he turned, calling over his shoulder "Eureka, California. Think you can find the way?"

She nodded, knowing he would know her answer even if he didn't see it. But she had one more question of her own. "And what do I call you?" she purred, looking for a name. Even if she couldn't see it, she knew he smiled.

"You can call me Sir."

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A/N: just testing the waters, seeing if there's an audience for this story. So, please, feedback.


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